My Uncle Sherlock
by ATimeLord'sKitty
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has been targeted. A typical thing, but when the assassin goes so far as to kill his son, he sends his daughter to the one place nobody would look for her: to his brother's house. Follow Elise Holmes as she attempts to find her brother's killer while keeping herself and her dad safe. Bit of Mythea. *No Mary Sue* COMPLETE
1. Not a Refrigerator

John Watson was at the flat, reading up on some news when his phone buzzed. Checking his texts, he found that Mycroft had been texting him. What now? He muttered. But the text was not about Sherlock, in fact John had to read it several times.

**_Sending over a Refrigerator_**

**_-MH_**

A half-hour later, a large moving truck appeared in front of 221B Baker Street. A few rather burly men unloaded a box with what seemed impossible care and brought it into the flat. As John stared at it, bewildered, Mycroft walked into the flat.

"What is this?" John asked, gesturing towards the box.

A Refrigerator." the Government official replied.

"No, We've already got-"

Suddenly Mycroft morphed into the role that many call 'The Iceman.' He looked at John and quite seriously, said to him; "John Watson, you take care of what is inside that box."

With that, Mycroft left, leaving a confused John with a box. The men had actually turned it on its side. Suddenly the box began to shake. John swore, then grabbed a poker from the fireplace, wielding it like a lance. Suddenly the top was kicked open by a black boot. Then John saw hands, and a face. It was a girl! A teenage girl. Smiling, she stood up and climbed out of the box. "Hello Mr. Watson."

"Wait what?! Who are you?" the girl had straight brown hair and blue eyes tinged with slate.

"My name is Elise," she replied. "and I'm afraid I can't tell you anything else until Sherlock gets here."

John sighed, wishing for once the detective was here. But he was off on a case, and John knew better than to interrupt him.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock Holmes returned to the flat. He had solved the case rather quickly, but the cab had gotten stuck in a jam.

Opening the door, he threw his coat aside, and as he was untying his scarf he noticed the girl sitting on the couch. "Hello Elise," he said quite halfheartedly. He then walked into the kitchen, retrieving what looked suspiciously like a hand and a screwdriver.

"Anyone want to tell me what's going on here?!" John yelled, as he saw no reaction whatsoever from either party.

Sherlock returned to the living room, holding the hand, which now had a screwdriver sticking from the palm. "John Watson, Elise Holmes, E-"

John jumped from his chair. "SHERLOCK HOLMES YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU HAD A DAUGHTER!"

John was all ready to punch Sherlock in the face when he heard Elise sighing. "I'm not his daughter. My father is Mycroft Holmes. Please do unhand my Uncle."

John let go of Sherlock's collar. "Why didn't you tell me you had a niece, Sherlock?"

"Mycroft has a son too." Sherlock added. "Never thought it was important.

"Had." Elise corrected. "Andrew is dead."

"Really? How?" Sherlock seemed interested. John felt sick. This was his nephew who was dead, for crying sakes! Speaking of crying, Elise seemed to be on the urge of it now.

"Look, Sherlock, we don't need to ask her now..."

"Boys? Who's that up there?" That was Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. "Oh, Sherlock, is this one of your cases?" Sherlock answered no just as Elise answered yes.

John took it apon himself to make introductions. "Mrs. Hudson, this is Elise Holmes, Sherlock's niece. She's going to be staying with us for a bit."

Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips. "Definitely not. No young lady is putting up with you two. Come along, Elise." I Elise got up, a bit bewildered, and retrieved her belongings from the refrigerator box as Mrs. Hudson opened up 221C.

Later, John brought in a cup of tea to Elise, who had just gotten settled in 221C. She took it, thanking him. "It's Earl Grey. Elise, your dad sent you here for a reason. Can I ask why?"

"Yes, you'd better get Uncle Sherlock."

Sherlock entered, and Elise began to tell her story.

"I was just bored, in science, when the teacher got a phone call. He got a funny look on his face and told me to go to the office. So I went, and I saw dad and Anthea, and I saw they'd been crying. So I ask what was wrong, and they told me Andrew had been killed at Uni. But it wasn't a random act of violence, no. Someone had gone through the trouble of finding Andy, and then leaving a message."

"What kind of message?" Sherlock asked, a bit too enthusiastic.

"A number. The Roman numeral for three." Elise drew it in the air.

"How do you know it wasn't some gang symbol?" John asked.

Instead of replying, Elise put on her shoes. "Any chance we can go to the cemetery?"

_Author's Note_

_updates to come soon, sorry for those of you who read it at first, somehow my copy-n-paste got messed up. -_-_


	2. The Graveyard Assassination

Elise, Sherlock and John arrived at the Highgate Cemetery.

Not surprisingly, the area that Elise wanted to go to was blocked by police tape. Sherlock reached into his pocket, retrieving the badge he had pick pocketed from Lestrade earlier.

Elise frowned and shook her head. Approaching one of the officers, she asked if she could be let through.

"Sorry miss, but this is a crime scene." The officer replied.

"But sir," Elise began to cry. "That's my mum's grave. This is my uncle," she gestured to Sherlock, who began to look sullen after John elbowed him. "And this is my uncle's flat mate. Please sir, can I just pay respects to my mum?"

The officer looked a bit panicked. "Okay, okay, just don't bother anyone…"

Immediately Elise stopped crying, wiping the tears from her eyes. Adopting a bored expression, she ducked under the police tape and led John and Sherlock to her mum's grave.

"Wait, Elise!" John called.

"Yes?" Elise turned.

"You were just crying, are you alright?" John was genuinely concerned, but Elise began to roll her eyes.

"Mr. Watson, my mum died when I was two. I never cry." Stopping, she continued. "-except when I need attention. Here," Elise parted through the crowd of police officers, once again reciting her story. On the grave was a bright red coat of spray-paint, and on top of that in black, the Roman numeral four. "Do you believe me now?" Elise asked, quite patently annoyed.

Suddenly, gun shots sounded through the air. Elise, John and Sherlock began running to the safety of a cab.

Elise let out a grunt of pain as a bullet grazed her side. Switching sides, John began running next to Elise, helping her run. Hailing a cab, the trio went directly to the flat, where John began to yell at Sherlock for some supplies.

Grabbing a towel, he began to press on Elise's side, where blood had already soaked through her jacket, shirt and tank top.

"Sherlock, I need some hydrogen peroxide!"

After the wound had been cleaned, John was able to determine that the bullet had indeed just grazed her. "Thank goodness you're okay, Elise…" he sighed as she grit her teeth, waiting for the pain killers to kick in.

"Really…why's…that…" she asked, a spasm of pain rippling through her side.

"…because Mycroft would kill Sherlock and I both if he heard about this. Luckily though, you're only going to have a bit of a scar." John got up, tossing a throw onto Elise, who dug her nails into it. "The Tylenol should be kicking in soon."

Meanwhile, Sherlock was back at the graveyard. Going to the spot where the would-be-assassin would have been, then calculating the cover, he decided that the sniper would have been unable to see who Elise was with. Then, he began to look for the bullet. He found it a few minutes later, as it had hit a headstone. Examining it, (and removing the blood) he saw exactly what he had expected.

The Roman numeral for two, engraved on the surface.

_author's note_

_Alright guys, review, favorite, follow, send oreos... it fuels me completely, and I need lots of encouragement. How do you guys like Elise? Like? Hate? Neutral? Send me any questions..._


	3. Tylenol and Sedated Tea

Elise was resting in 221C. Well, resting in the sense that John had been forced to slip sedatives into her tea.

_I didn't want to sedate her… _he thought to himself. _But she refused to rest. She really wants to find who killed her brother._

Sherlock groaned inwardly as he arrived back at the flat. The look John had on his face clearly stated he did something he didn't want to do… "She's not going to take kindly you sedated her, John."

Not even caring that Sherlock had deduced him, John jumped to his own defense. "Look, she wasn't going to rest…"

Shrugging, Sherlock pulled out his microscope and cut a thin cross section of the bullet. A simple copper and lead bullet, fired from a sniper rifle.

John looked on as Sherlock pulled knobs and muttered to himself. Pulling out his laptop, he found a space on the counter not littered with spare body parts and opened up his blog.

"Don't even think about it." Came a voice from the hallway.

John looked up to see Elise, (looking a bit pale) standing in the hall, her hair hanging scraggily in her face. She was leaning up against a wall, and it was apparent her side was paining her. "I'm not amused that you drugged me, Doctor Watson, and don't you dare write on your blog about me. I'm hiding, Doctor Watson, so think about what you blog." Wincing slightly, she added: "Where do you keep your Tylenol, Uncle Sherlock?"

"Bathroom, white cupboard." Sherlock answered, all without looking up.

Hobbling off, she located the bottle and swallowed some pills. John shut the laptop sheepishly. "I'm going to talk to Sarah and see if I can get some antibiotics for her."

Sherlock didn't respond, instead turning his gaze to the small numeral four.

Deciding instead to talk to Elise first, John went off to 221C. Elise was sitting on the cot, staring at the wall.

"Awfully dusty," John commented, his hands in his pockets.

Elise brushed her hair out of her eyes. She had a rather lovely pixie cut, but the bangs were a bit long. "I suppose so. There's a mouse in the walls, heard it scrabbling around."

John nodded. "I'll see what I can do about a mousetrap. Er… Elise, do you do the whole-"

"'-Deduction thing?'" She asked. "A bit. Not nearly as well as Dad, but better than the average girl."

"Bit of help on dates?" John asked. Elise turned around, her eyebrows raised. "You know, tell if the guy's living with his parents, if he just likes you for your name…"

"How old do you think I am?" Elise asked, a bit flattered and shocked.

"Seventeen, eighteen?" John guessed.

Elise sighed. "I'm thirteen, Mr. Watson,"

John grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Elise, is there something else bothering you?"

Elise returned to the wall. "You know, nothing much, just my mum's grave defaced, my brother murdered, Anthea and Dad in danger. Nothing much at all."

John sat down next to Elise. "Do you want to tell me about Andrew?"

_Author's Note_

_Okay, thanks to my reviewers! It makes me sooooo happy to see that little number pop up. THIS WILL NOT be a "minilock" story. Elise is her own person, she's a bit like her dad, bit like her mum, mostly herself. Speaking of, WHO IS HER MUM? *dramatic music* _

_Send reviews and oreos!_


	4. How Andy Died

"Andy is seven years older than me," Elise began. "He had blonde hair, blue-grey eyes, tall, with braces and glasses. He was a really nice boy, friends with all the girls, hardly dated though."

John nodded. "Can you tell me about the night of the murder?"

Sherlock stopped outside Elise's door, listening in.

((FLASHBACK, Andy's POV))

"Oi, Andy!"

I look up from my book, marking the page with a sticky note. "What, James?"

James was a boy with blonde-brown hair and green eyes. He and I hang out together a lot because we were both kind of shunned from the other boys back in primary school. "Rebecca and I are having a study session, you want to come with?"

Shrugging, I pick up my bag. "I guess."

((END FLASHBACK))

"Then Andrew went to Rebecca's dorm…"

((FLASHBACK, JAMES' POV))

Andrew Holmes was awkward. For a while, everyone asked him if he was related to THE Sherlock Holmes, but once they found out he was only a nephew, they stopped asking.

But I was pretty excited when Rebecca asked me to study with her. Rebecca's not particularly good looking, she's got this amazing hair, but she's also got glasses, and braces and a bit of acne. Kind of the female equivalent of Andy.

Which reminds me, Andy was feeling pretty low this week; earlier he had a row with his sister. No idea what it was about, but he seemed a bit shaken up. So I invited him to come study with us.

A half-hour into studying (we were studying for a theater class, and Rebecca knew absolutely nothing about LSoH) Andy got up.

"I'm going to go get some oreos." He announced.

"Why…?" Rebecca asked, looking up from a diagram of Audrey II.

"I need oreos when I study." Andy explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. So he grabbed his coat, shut the door, and left.

We didn't quite worry about him until Rebecca and I noticed that he had been gone for three hours.

Rebecca grabbed her phone. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Calling the police." She replied, holding it to her ear.

"He probably just got distracted, come on!" grabbing her hand, we raised out the door, running through the campus towards the shop.

We circled the store a few times before Rebecca started screaming.

Andy was lying in the bushes, surrounded by a pool of blood.

Trying to keep my cool, I checked for a pulse. Nothing. So I pulled up his shirt to try and perform CPR and gasped.

Someone had carved- literally CARVED a Roman numeral 3 into his chest. "Rebecca," I began to sob. Here was my best mate, dead. "Rebecca, call the cops."

((END FLASHBACK))

Elise sat on the bed, her face devoid of emotion. "…and then the police told Dad, and Anthea and they called the school." She looked up. "…and then Dad knew I was in danger, so he sent me here."

_Author's Note_

_...and the long awaited next chapter! Send more reviews, my lovely friendly friends!_

_...and oreos! Lots of oreos, since Andy never got his. *evil snicker*_


	5. John Has a Plan

John sat still, a bit in shock. He had seen plenty of deaths worse than the one Elise had told him about, but it was still just so… inhumane. "Did Andrew die from the 'carving' or a bullet wound, or-"  
"It was the carving that killed him." Elise replied. "He bled to death."

Meanwhile, Mycroft Holmes was very nervous.

Glancing at the photo of his children on his desk, he turned it down. He couldn't hide it anymore, couldn't keep it out of the papers. His son was dead, and he had to act like his daughter had run away in an attack of unnecessary guilt. Glancing out the window, he saw a reporter snapping photos of him at his desk. Putting his head down on his desk, he ignored him.

Besides, he deduced the man was trying to get a big scoop, trying to feed his own children. He closed the curtains. _Andy. _He thought to himself. _What have I done?_

*time skip, one week*

Elise settled into her life of hiding. Mrs. Hudson began to fawn on her like a granddaughter, Sherlock stopped ignoring her presence and John talked to her frequently. She still didn't smile much, spending a lot of time staring at the wall.

"I'm worried about her, Sherlock." John told him one morning as he was drinking his coffee, Sherlock doing… something with a paperclip and a kneecap. "She hasn't been eating anything." He stopped. "…and don't tell me some story about how 'the superior Holmes family doesn't need to eat, we feed off the inferiority of others', she needs to eat something."

"Considering she's still very upset about her brother's demise, it can be expected." Sherlock sighed, ramming the paperclip into the knee. "There."

John stared at the kneecap. "What am I looking at?"

"…a paperclip in a kneecap, Doctor Watson. She's suffering from PTSD."

"I know that, her brother's been carved like some sort of tree, of course she's got-" John suddenly slammed down his coffee. "I've got it!"

A few minutes later, John told Sherlock his plan.

"No, absolutely not," came the reply from Sherlock.

"She's your niece; surely she's inherited some sort of superior intelligence." John was begging. "I can't allow her to wallow in her own sadness like that."

"No."

"Mycroft'll kill us both." John added. "Whether it's with his own hands or-"

Sherlock's phone buzzed and he looked at the text.

"Fine." He admitted defeat.

It wasn't until later that John got to see the text.

"_Take care of the refrigerator or I'll tell mummy on you._

_-MH"_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE_

_What on earth has Sherlock agreed to? Will the paperclip in the kneecap serve any purpose? Will we get to see some MycroftxAnthea? Will I receive any oreos?_

_Find out in the next installment of the "My Uncle Sherlock" series!_

_Review, my friendly friends!_

_-ATLK_


	6. Elise Has a Flashback and Sally Appears

Sherlock sat silently in the cab, his fingers pressed under his chin as he thought about the case, completely ignoring the other passengers.

John sat next to Elise. Who sat sullenly in the middle of the cab, staring at the cab television, but not quite seeing the pictures. John turned to her in a feeble attempt to make conversations. But before he could open his mouth, Elise gave him the bitterest look that ever came from thirteen-year olds' eyes and he swallowed nervously.

Once they arrived at Scotland Yard, John gave the cabbie some money and he drove off. "Why am I here?" Elise demanded, turning to Sherlock as she blocked his path into the building.

"John." Sherlock replied, before sidestepping her and entering the building.

"Doctor Watson?" Elise turned and crossed her arms, her blue/slate eyes dark with concealed anger.

"Elise, you're going to help Sherlock on a case." John answered with the most enthusiasm he could muster.

Elise entered the building, keeping her head down and keeping step with Sherlock.

"Oi, Freak!" Sally Donovan called, stepping in front of Sherlock. Elise halted immediately, meeting Donovan's eyes and using the same stare she had used on John, (something she was proud to say she had inherited from her father) making Donovan feel uneasy.

Breaking the stare down with Elise, she turned to Sherlock. "Who's this? Got yourself a mini-freak?" Elise stood tall, ignoring the comment.

Then Donovan made a mistake. She got in Elise's face, grabbing her shoulder tightly. "A mute? A mute freak." She spit out the words, making mutual anger flare between the two Holmes. Quickly, Sherlock pinned Donovan to the wall.

"That, Donovan, is my niece." Sherlock replied, his voice dark. "Touch her again and I'll have your head on Lestrade's desk." He released her, and she began to run.

"Thank you." Elise said simply, brushing her shoulder as though she could rid herself of the horrid woman's DNA.

"Really shouldn't let people push you like that." Sherlock replied, as he stepped toward an office labeled "DETECTIVE INSPECTOR LESTRADE"

Elise swallowed. "yeah," she replied quietly.

((FLASHBACK))

Elise was in the Principal's office yet again. She held an ice pack close to her eye, wincing as the cold hit the bruised skin.

"Miss Holmes?" that was the Headmaster. She didn't look up.

"Miss Holmes?" The Headmaster repeated. When Elise refused to reply, she began to yell. "ELISE HOLMES LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!"

Mycroft chose that moment to walk into the office. "And why should she?"

The Headmaster shrunk back, but Mycroft held her gaze. "I d-d-don't…"

"Why. Should. She. Look. At. You." Mycroft repeated, as though speaking to an idiot.

_He is speaking to an idiot. _Elise thought.

But Mycroft was on a roll. "You see, Headmaster Thompson, this is the third time Elise has been attacked. And what does it earn her?" he asked, as the Headmaster shrunk into her chair. "WHAT DOES IT EARN HER? The students get suspended for a week. One week, that's all she gets, then they're back to attack her. Elise," he said, turning to his daughter. "Why don't you tell Headmaster Thompson what your English teacher told you when you talked about the juveniles who attacked you?"

((FLASHBACK within the FLASHBACK))

Elise approached her English teacher nervously, her hands trembling as she held her books close to her chest. "Miss Ayers?"

The longhaired woman with the shrew like face sniffed. Elise took it as a queue to continue. "I've been attacked, ma'am." She lowered her books, and two large handprints were visible on her neck.

Miss Ayers glanced up. "You really should stop flaunting your knowledge like that, Elise." She pushed her glasses up to her nose. "It's not your attacker's fault…"

((END FLASHBACK WITHIN FLASHBACK))

"…that you seem so different." Elise finished.

Elise didn't remember the rest of the conversation, only that she found herself in the car with Anthea and her dad a few moments later. "I want you to call Andy," Anthea mused, absorbed in her phone.

"Okay." Elise accepted the BlackBerry from Anthea, taking it as she knew it was a strong gesture. Anthea never gave her phone just to anyone.

"Andy…"

"I heard what happened. You really shouldn't let them push you around like that."

"You really shouldn't let them push you around like that."

_"You really shouldn't let them push you around like that."_

((END FLASHBACK))

"Elise?" Sherlock interrupted Elise's reminiscing as she shook her head slightly, clearing all thoughts of her demised brother.

"Coming." She replied.

_Author's Note_

_Oh so much feels~_

_First real mention of Anthea, and hooray for the longness of this chapter! Couldn't stop writing…_

_Send me reviews and lots of oreos! I love reviews, even if it's just "nice chapter"_

_Thank you, friendly friends!_

_-ATLK_


	7. Elise Solves a Crime and Annoys 3 Men

Elise, Sherlock and John entered Lestrade's office, John taking in that Elise was looking decidedly pale.

"Are you okay?" he half whispered, handing her the antibiotic she had forgotten this morning.

"Fine." Elise hissed slightly, swallowing the pill without any water.

Greg Lestrade was sitting at his desk, pouring over the contents of this case file. Nine children kidnapped from Children's Homes, then five returned a week later, completely unharmed and well fed, the other four found dead. He didn't look up as he heard Sherlock enter.

"Sherlock, could have taken longer, bloody-"

"Refrain from swearing, Lestrade, there's a minor here." Sherlock cut him off curtly.

Surprised, Greg looked up to see a girl, with light brown hair, a rounded face and eyes just like Sherlock's.

Elise looked disgusted. "Minor in age, not in intelligence, dear Uncle." She slapped on the last part sarcastically, and John swore he could see sparks fly betwixt the two Holmes' gazes.

"Er… Greg, this is Elise Holmes," John introduced her.

Lestrade swallowed and swore, earning a smug look from Elise. "Mycroft's daughter?"

"Yes." Elise replied sourly. "I'm only here because Doctor's orders…" she glanced at John. "…were to solve a bloody crime or two."

Lestrade handed Elise the file, and she turned away as Sherlock attempted to grab it.

"Really her father's daughter," remarked Lestrade to John.

Elise opened her mind, absorbing the information.

_"Girls, ages 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10. All returned wearing similar clothes…" _She looked at the photos of the three girls. "_Black hair, green eyes. 12, 14, 16, 18 year old girls, same looks, found dead in lake…"_

"Uncle, look at this." Elise slid over the pictures of the girls.

Sherlock observed the photos, and John looked over his shoulders. "So our kidnapper has a taste for girls with black hair." John remarked hopefully.

Elise didn't answer, instead selecting a testimony from the 10 year old girl, leaving the rest of the file, which Sherlock grabbed a bit eagerly.

_"I was outside, just walking around, when this man came and he said he was going to adopt me. I was all excited, you know, 'cuz I wanted a home and he led me to his car. It was really comfy and shiny and black. There were other girls there too, and some of 'em were crying. He took us all to this house, and then he made us get into the basement and it was dark and wet and scary. And he all took us upstairs after a while, but firs' he took the girls younger than me… and then it was my turn, and he gave me a nice dress to wear. An' I met a woman and she was bald and he told me to call her 'mum' and then a week later he took me for a ride and then he dropped me back at the orphanage."_

Elise felt the wheels turning inside her head. _"Black, shiny car… possibly lawyer… bald woman…cancer….girls all look the same…" _She clicked her tongue. "I've got it."

But Sherlock interrupted her, his eyes scanning the paper in mere seconds. "Our kidnapper is a lawyer with a wife suffering from cancer. His wife wanted to raise a child in the few weeks she had left. So he kidnaps them from the one place they would go willingly."

"But why only kill some of them?" Lestrade asked.

"The ones who'd tell; the 'rebellious teen' so to speak." Elise set down the paper. "I need to see a list of all the lawyers in London, and medical records attached."

Lestrade was a bit shocked from Elise's demanding tone. "I can't do that, Patient Confidentiality and whatnot,"

Elise squeezed her hands. Oh, it felt good to have her intelligence back, coursing her system like the magic she used to dream she possessed. "Luckily, I have a dad who can."

_Author's Note_

_Whooooo! Elise solves a crime! Totally borrowed the case from a friend, sorry it's a bit overused… _

_I had a lot of fun on this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed. I think I write as Lestrade pretty terribly, so he doesn't say much._

_Send reviews and oreos, my lovely friendly friends!_

_-ATLK_


	8. The Locket

Elise rode in the cab next to John and Sherlock once again, this time a bit more animate. She was now engaged in a serious conversation with John… about the proper way to carry a person suffering from a concussion.

"Four-hand carry." Elise said yet again.

"No, you'd make a stretcher." John argued.

"With the stretcher you'd scare the person with the injury. If you had no idea what was going on, and then someone plops you on a stretcher, you'd be rather frightened." Elise concluded her argument, her slate and blue eyes sparkling with a hidden smirk.

John rolled his eyes. "I suppose." He knew he was beaten, but he hated arguing with a thirteen year old… especially if he was wrong.

The cab arrived back at the flat and John seized the opportunity, as Elise wasn't feeling depressed anymore. "Er… Elise, want a sandwich?"

Elise shrugged. "I'll make it myself. Thank you, Doctor Watson."

She sprinted into the flat, (as it was now cold and she had forgotten her jacket) and opened the fridge. Staring back was a severed head. Blinking, she closed the door and approached Sherlock. "Your bloody head has ruined the cold cuts."

Sherlock shrugged.

So Elise made herself a peanut butter sandwich instead, as she figured nothing in the fridge would be safe to ingest. She then made another one, bringing it out on a plate to Sherlock, who was staring at the wall, obviously in his mind palace. It was funny how his movements in the air matched her father's when he entered his. Setting the plate down, she exited the kitchen, going into 221C.

She took her antibiotics and sat down on the bed, fingering the locket around her throat.

"The locket." Came a voice from the hallway. She jumped, and turned to see Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"Yeah? What about it?" Elise asked quickly, hiding it back under her blouse.

"It's very sentimental. It's broken, but you kept it anyway. You're too young to have had any long boyfriends, so it's from a parental figure, but not your mother, since you don't have a strong connection with her. Mycroft would never buy such a thing, so I'm going with Anthea." Sherlock deduced, hands in his pockets.

"Well, you're wrong for once." Elise snapped.

"Really? Who's it from then?" Sherlock asked.

"Andy." Elise whispered.

((FLASHBACK))

A seven year old Elise sat by her father and Anthea on a couch.

"Happy Birthday Elise," he said, ruffling her hair. He handed her a box.

Elise grinned so brightly she thought her face would crack. "Oh, thank you!" inside was a little stuffed tabby cat.

"What are you going to name it?" Asked Mycroft, watching Elise hug the cat.

Elise pondered it for a minute. "….Anthea!" she said, watching the real Anthea's eyes widen in surprise.

"Well, we wouldn't want the real Anthea getting mixed up, so why not Annie instead?" Mycroft picked up the cat, nodding its head with his thumbs. "See, she likes it."

Elise stuck out her lip. "Okay." She sat the cat down in her lap, then asked the question Mycroft and Anthea had been dreading all morning. "Where's Andy?"

"Look, Elise, you know that Andy's off at boarding school, an-" Anthea was interrupted by the front door opening.

"I got a ride back!" Andy called to his father, who looked rather shocked.

"Andy!" Elise laughed, hugging her 14 year old brother about the legs. "Hullo, kitten!" Andy hugged her back, using the nickname her had given her when she was first born, and he told his mother she looked like a kitten.

Setting her down, Andy retrieved a box from his pocket. "I got you a present," he explained, handing it to Elise, who opened it to reveal a little locket.

"Happy birthday, Elise." He grinned, hugging her tightly.

((END FLASHBACK))

"How'd it break?" Sherlock asked a bit more intrigued.

((ANOTHER FLASHBACK))

"Take that, you little know-it-all!" The girl slapped Elise again, laughing as she tried to wrench her arms from the other girl's grips. "Insult me again, I dare you."

Elise, refusing to break, hissed back. "You have security issues and a drug problem."

Shrieking, the girl punched Elise in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. The locket hung, the few rays of light in the alley shining off of it.

"Oh, what's this?" the girl asked, feigning innocence as she ripped it off Elise's neck, throwing it into the road.

Suddenly an officer's shouts permeated the darkness, and the three girls ran off, leaving a bruised and beaten Elise behind.

The Officer swore before running to Elise. "Oh sweetie, c'mon, you've got to stay with us," he told Elise, as she drifted into unconsciousness.

"My… my locket…it's in the road…" she told the officer before passing out.

When Elise awoke, she was in a hospital bed, an IV attached to her arm and bandages around the cut marks on her arms and face.

Anthea sat in a corner, her face white and teary.

"An… Anthea…" she called out, her voice rough and her throat sore.

Anthea's head jerked up, and she came to Elise's side. "Oh, Mycroft was so frightened…"

"Where's my locket?" Elise asked quietly.

Anthea reached onto the bedside table. "It was funny, the officer her found you insisted he return it."

The locket was smashed, and the chain was beyond repair, so Anthea took one of her own necklaces off her neck, moving the charm to her bracelet. "Here's a new chain for it." She gently took the locket out of Elise's bruised fingers, slipping it on the chain and onto Elise's neck.

((END FLASHBACK))

Sherlock stored the information in his mind palace, into a room far into the corner labeled "Elise."

_Author's Note_

_Here's some more Anthea for you guys, I know how much you love her. _

_Anyway, review, follow, favorite and send oreos._

_-ATLK_


	9. Imaginary Pawns

_CHAPTER NINE_

_Author's Note: three year old Elise talks normal because I don't like writing babytalk. I have a three year old brother, but I don't like writing it. –n– Also, I gave Mrs. Holmes the name Violet, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was particularly fond of the name. _

Sherlock poured over the details of Andy's death as he sat in his chair, oblivious to the world around him.

Elise was reading a book, a favorite of John's, who had suggested it to her after she admitted to being bored (but only after John commented she must have found considerable fun in staring at ceilings).

John nudged Elise with his shoulder. She looked up, placing her fiddlehead fern bookmark in the page. "What?"

"Just curious, but did Sherlock ever babysit you or Andy when you were young?"

Elise rolled her eyes and laughed a bit. "As if Dad would ever let him near us." She thought for a second before adding. "Actually… he watched us once."

John chuckled. "I need to blackmail him somehow. Go on, Elise."

((FLASHBACK))

It was one of the rare occasions when the Holmes got together, and the entire family now gathered at Mycroft's house. Elise was three, Andrew ten.

Elise wandered through the hallway, a firm grip on her brother's hand. "Where are we going?" she asked. She was a bit tired, as Andy had woke her up.

"Grandma and Grandpa are here!" Andy said excitedly. "And Uncle Sherlock came with them!"

Elise's brow wrinkled as she tried to remember that name. "Who's he?" she asked.

Andy shrugged. "Oh, you haven't met him yet. He's dad's brother."

Elise's eyes widened. "Daddy has a brother?"

Andy laughed. "Yeah! I was surprised too!"

Elise and Andy arrived in the living room, where a disgruntled looking Sherlock was sitting still.

Elise ran to her Grandmother and Grandfather, giving each of them a hug.

"Elise, darling, this is your Uncle Sherlock." Violet Holmes introduced the man.

Elise looked at this stranger who was supposed to be her uncle. He gave Elise a cold stare, which would have frightened any other child, but instead she gave him a hug, right around his legs.

Sherlock started to look frightened, something he did not do often. But children did frighten him, they were strange creatures, learning and changing and unaware. Uncertain, he petted Elise gently on the head, and she let go.

Andy grabbed Elise's arm, pulling her away from the group. "Elise, you can't hug him!" he scolded her.

"But Andy…" she whined. "He looked so sad!"

Sherlock heard all this, as Andy had not mastered the art of whispering and he blanched.

Elise and Andy stayed with their uncle the rest of the day, asking him questions and telling stories. Sherlock attempted to ditch them, even going to his mother.

"Can't you get rid of them?" he asked her, and she smiled warmly.

"They're children, they'll stop following you once you start being open with them." Violet continued to wash dishes as Elise turned the corner. She was holding a magnifying glass, inspecting the carpet.

"Uncle Sherlock! Look what I got!" she squealed, waving the object. She forced it into his hands, and he looked it over.

It was a plastic one, and it didn't magnify at all. "It doesn't even work," he stated, turning it over.

Andy laughed. "Yeah, we've got to pretend."

Elise looked up with innocent eyes, so wide, and Sherlock noted, almost exactly like his. It hit him suddenly; that this child had his blood too, was his niece. "Do you pretend?" Elise asked, blinking sweetly.

Sherlock thought back to the drug rehab that his parents were forcing him to go through. "N- yes." He said finally. "I guess I do."

Andy grabbed his hand. "Will you come play with us?"

He dragged Sherlock to his room, where Elise got down her chess set. Andy whispered to Sherlock (in his horrid stage whisper) "She doesn't play it right."

Elise ignored this, taking out the pieces and lining them up in one long row. "Sit down," she commanded Sherlock, and he sat. She handed Sherlock a knight. "You're a horsey." She told him. She handed Andy a king. "And you're the king." She picked up a Queen. "and I'm the beautiful Princess." She lined up the other pieces.

"This is Daddy," she pointed to a bishop. "and this is Anthea." She pointed to the other bishop. She pointed to the pawns. "and these are my friends." She stared at them sadly. "They're imaginary though."

Sherlock held the knight carefully. "I don't have friends either," he said, looking at the pawns.

((END FLASHBACK))

John laughed. "And then what happened?"

Elise pushed the carpet with the toe of her boot. "I made the horse carry the beautiful Princess for two hours."

John laughed even harder, imagining Sherlock carrying around a three year old girl.

_Author's Note_

_There we go, chapter nine. This one took me a bit longer, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Leave your reviews and send lots of Oreos!_

_((backseat reader asks for doublestuf mint))_


	10. Nightmares

_((here's some parentlike!John in this chapter… because I'm too lazy to write anything else. Also a rather gruesome scene in the graveyard, so read at your own risk.))_

Elise was walking through the cemetery. She stopped at her mother's grave, seeing the graffiti had been removed. _Bailey Holmes _glowed slightly from the pale stone.

Elise stared at it. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the pain she felt in her chest. "Oh mum," she whispered, her chest heaving with dry sobs, and she wished for once she could cry, just for satisfaction…

"Wouldn't that be selfish, kitten?" came a voice from behind her.

Elise turned. "Mum?"

Indeed, Bailey Holmes stood in the moonlight, clad in a white dressing gown, her long brown hair flowing freely in thick waves.

She extended her arms, and Elise ran to her. But as their fingers touched, Elise felt her hand become slippery and wet.

Screaming, she jumped back, out of the embrace. Her hand was dripping with crimson blood, the same that was now pumping out of her mother's back.

Bailey Holmes' face was now distorted, blood pouring from black, pain filled eyes and her mouth. The blood soaked the dressing gown, leaving pools of crimson all over the ground.

"Elise…" Bailey wailed, clutching for her daughter, who was now backing away, wrapping her hands around her waist.

Elise began to shake her head violently, prying the hands off. "You're not my mum!" she screamed. "Never were!"

Bailey let out another piercing scream, and grabbed Elise's shoulders, shaking her…

Then she woke up.

The shaking of the shoulders had come from John, who had heard Elise's screams and ran into 221C. He was now desperately trying to wake her up.

Elise panted heavily, her eyes wide, still trying to run from her dead mother.

"Elise… Elise, it's okay…" John told her, smoothing her hair down.

Elise got her breathing under control, blushing as she saw the clock brazenly proclaimed 3:07 in bright red digits.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." She apologized.

John shook his head. "I won't have you apologizing for that. Quite a bad nightmare," he remarked. Taking Elise's hand, he showed her the blood. "You impaled your own stomach…"

Indeed, ten visible red lines were visible across Elise's stomach where she had attempted to claw her mother's arms off her. Thankfully though, she had not reopened the bullet wound (which was now healing fantastically.)

John got up. "I'll go get some bandages." He hesitated. "Probably some tea would be helpful too."

Elise sighed, getting out of her bed and looking at herself in the mirror. She was a mess. Her brown pixie cut had been ruffled and mussed by her thrashing, her hands and stomach were covered in blood, and her face was even paler than normal.

John returned a few minutes later, and he began to place some bandages on Elise's torso. She shivered in the cool night air, as she was sleeping in a tank top, and went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

John sat on the sofa, his mind racing as he sipped his tea. He wondered how Sherlock would deal with Elise's nightmare and wounds, as he felt certain Sherlock would deduce it immediately. It was one of those few nights Sherlock actually slept.

Indeed, the next morning, when Sherlock sat down at the table and began to work on an experiment, he looked across at Elise, who was absentmindedly nibbling at toast.

"Nightmare." He said simply.

Elise glared at him. "That wasn't a question," she shot back. "And it's none of your concern."

Sherlock shrugged as Elise put down her toast, no longer hungry.

Sherlock continued to stare at Elise's empty spot, no longer meddling with his experiment.

John sat down next to Sherlock.

"Interesting," Sherlock muttered.

"Elise?" John asked, amused.

"…she eats in a circle." Sherlock muttered again, ignoring John completely. But he was right; the toast was bitten in an almost perfect circle.

John sighed. "…you're completely missing the point."

_Author's Note_

_Yayyy friendly friends sent me reviews! Thank you, guest and other Elise._

_Send Oreos and more reviews!_

_(preferably mint~)_


	11. Explosions and Friendship

Elise sat angrily on her bed. It wasn't his business if she was having nightmares. Stupid uncle and his deducing.

Suddenly, she heard her name being called.

By Sherlock.

She opened the door, walking down the hallway to the larger flat. "What?"

Sherlock and John were staring at the telly screen; John's mouth agape in horror, Sherlock's shut tight with concealed worry.

Elise turned to the screen, which was now portraying a huge raging fire, and firemen attempting to battle it.

The marquee appeared once more, and Elise mirrored John's expression.

_Holmes Mansion Bombed_

Elise squeaked out a remark, her voice lost in sudden shock.

_Whereabouts of Government Official Unknown_

"No body." Sherlock said simply.

Elise took it as an attempt at sympathy. "What… what about Anthea?" she said, shaking slightly.

John put an arm around her comfortingly. "The news crew tried to get something out of her. She's alive."

The camera panned around the wreckage once more, and Sherlock sat up from his chair. "Aha!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger accusingly at the television.

Elise looked up. "What?"

"A number, they left a number! Too selfish to let it be anonymous, almost all murderers are, they leave a mark…" he stopped his pacing, turning to Elise. "They planned out the death of Anthea and Mycroft! It was a number one!" He clapped triumphantly, and Elise immediately slapped him.

John held Elise tightly again as she began shaking. "Thanks a lot." He hissed at Sherlock, who was looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

Elise pushed away, walking out into the street, leaving the two men arguing.

"Elise dear!" she heard, and she turned around to see Mrs. Hudson gesturing madly at her. "Get inside, you'll catch your death of cold!" Elise realized she wasn't wearing a jacket, and sullenly followed Mrs. Hudson inside.

"Take a seat, I heard John and Sherlock having a row." Mrs. Hudson remarked, closing the door behind Elise. "Wonderful boys, but they don't know how to raise a child."

"I'm hardly a child, Mrs. Hudson." Elise returned. She didn't mean it to sound bitter, but it did.

"You're right, dear. You've been forced to grow up too quick." She sighed. "What with your brother's death, and now your father's gone missing…"

"He's dead." Elise replied quietly.

"Now dear, they haven't found a body!"

"No. He would have told me. He's dead, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson expected Elise to cry, maybe at least shake, but no, she seemed fine.

John had just given up with arguing with Sherlock when he suddenly realized something. "Where is she?" he asked, glancing around.

Sherlock looked in 221C. "She's not here, and she didn't come back here after our discussion."

John ran outside. "Elise!" he yelled.

Sherlock pulled John down. "Quiet, people are already looking for her! You can't start screaming her name!"

John burst into Mrs. Hudson's flat. "Mrs. Hudson, Elise has gone mis-" he stopped, Elise was sitting quietly at her table reading a novel while Mrs. Hudson sewed.

Mrs. Hudson looked up. "Problem, John?"

John let out a sigh. "Elise didn't tell us where she was going and gave us a scare."

Elise blushed. "Sorry."

Elise left with John, where they found Sherlock investigating Mrs. Hudson's doorway. He looked up and saw Elise.

"What were you doing?" Elise asked.

"Looking for fingernail marks from you being forcefully dragged away by a kidnapper. Didn't find any." He said briskly, and they returned to their proper flats.

Mycroft Holmes was definitely not dead.

He almost wished he was at the moment, as blood soaked his suit. His assailant showed no mercy though, as he attacked the child in his arms again. But he wasn't even touched, couldn't do anything.

The little girl looked somewhat like Elise, but she wasn't. She was crying.

The man with the whip stopped, and Mycroft held her close, wishing the gag in his mouth was gone so he could tell her everything was going to be fine.

"You have hurt me, Mr. Holmes." The man hissed. "So now I will hurt you. I will kill everything you love and then," the man kicked him away, and grabbed the little girl. He caressed her cheek, and then slapped her roughly. "…then I will kill you."

The little girl fell to the ground once more. The man with the whip left, and Mycroft held the girl once more.

"You're not my daddy!" the little girl exclaimed. "Why does he tell me you are?"

Mycroft couldn't reply, only shaking his head.

With a trembling finger, he wrote out 'Mycroft' in the dirt coating the floor of their prison.

The little girl mimicked him, writing out Emmy.

_Author's Note_

_Really depressing chapter, sorry, but I hard to add something that actually applied to the plotline. Review, follow favorite, send oreos!_

_-ATLK_


	12. Josef's Resentment

Elise had slipped back into the void of depression. She had stopped eating as much as she used to, becoming quiet and withdrawn once more. She did everything John and Sherlock asked of her without complaint. Sherlock accepted it, but John felt uneasy. So he cornered her in the kitchen.

"Elise, what have you eaten today?" he demanded of her.

Elise struggled to remember if she had even eaten anything. "…tea." She said quietly.

John sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It was almost dinner time. "You are going to sit at this table," he told her. "And you are going to eat."

Elise sat down quietly, fingering the edge of her shirt. John opened the fridge, ignoring the arm, and began to cook bacon and three eggs.

He sat it down in front of Elise, who stared at it like it was a foreign object. "I… I can't eat all this!" she said.

John crossed his arms. "I want you to try."

Elise managed to eat one egg and half a slice of bacon. John then permitted her to leave, under the promise she would eat more tomorrow. She began to walk to 221C, but didn't make it.

She felt her legs give way, and she fell to the floor.

John panicked a bit as he came to her side. He determined she had fainted from malnutrition. She was even skinnier than he had thought. She was so unhealthy.

He deposited her onto the sofa, smoothing back her hair. "Oh Elise," he whispered, sitting on the chair on the other side of the room.

Mycroft held Emmy close as he heard the man's footsteps returning. She began to sob, burying her face in his suit jacket.

"Well Mr. Holmes," the man began. "Since you've behaved so nicely, we'll take the gag out."

Two other men stepped out from behind him and untied his gag. They each wore black suits, but one man had brown hair, the other black.

The man who had attacked them had blonde hair; in fact it was so blonde it was almost white.

Mycroft gritted his teeth as the gag was removed. "This girl isn't my daughter!" he yelled at Brown and Black, wishing the one handcuff holding him to the wall would shatter. "Let her go!"

Blondie laughed madly, a hollow sound. "But if only I believed you. Then your precious daughter could go run for the police. Nope," he popped the ending like a teenager. "I won't fall for your lies."

Mycroft was enraged. Black and Brown began to pry Emmy out of his arm, dragging her out of the room with Blondie. "WHO ARE YOU?" Mycroft shouted.

Blondie turned around once before shutting the door, a maniacal grin on his face as he told him; "Josef Volger."

Mycroft was left in the dark, but he could hear Emmy's screams. _Those monsters! _He thought angrily. _That poor child. Who is Josef Volger? What have I done to wrong him?_

_Author's Note_

_Er… all uphill from here, folks!_

_I'll be updating this everyother day at least, as my other story is now finished. I've also hit a bit of a writer's block, and nothing like some plot ideas! Send reviews!_

_-ATLK_


	13. Of Pathologists and Teachers

"…just fell…"

"Malnourished…."

The voices floated around in Elise's head, and as she attempted to open her eyes, her vision swam and the voices became clear.

"I think she's coming around."

Elise managed to open her eyes without much pain. John and Sherlock were standing over her, John with a worried expression. She was lying on the sofa. "What… what happened?" she said groggily. Her words felt like sandpaper scratching her throat.

"Here, you need to eat." John handed her a box of take out.

"Coconut shrimp," Sherlock remarked. "Protein and fat to help you rebuild."

Elise took the container. "Dad would buy this all the time." She said quietly, beginning to eat.

((Flashback))

Elise swung her legs back and forth as she nibbled at the delicious coconut shrimp sushi. Andy was eating a dragon roll with avocado and eel, Anthea was having dumplings and Mycroft had miso soup.

Today was a special day, Andy and Elise had received report cards. Elise was happy; she knew that her report card was full of good marks. Seventh grade was too easy.

Andy was less enthusiastic, as he had been slipping in his AP History class. The teacher was boring and he didn't pay much attention.

The Holmes' hearts all fluttered a bit as Mycroft opened Elise's report. Anthea was too engrossed in her phone to mind much.

"Elise!" Mycroft gasped.

Elise's brow furrowed as she attempted to reach for the sheet of paper. "What?!" her jaw dropped.

Laughing, Mycroft slid the paper across the table. "Just kidding, A's in everything."

Elise folded her arms. "It's not funny, Dad. You really frightened me, I was afraid I'd miss out on a scholarship!"

Elise wanted to become a Pathologist, and the time required equaled a large sum of money.

Mycroft grinned once more before opening Andy's report. His face dropped. "Oh, Andy."

Elise rolled her eyes. "That's not wor-"

The concern in her father's eyes was real. Andy tried to hide in his seat, to hide from the shame in his voice.

Andy had received a C+ in AP History.

"Elise, Andy, go to your rooms." Mycroft commanded, the meal forgotten.

Elise slunk up the stairs, and then slid under her bed. Her room was right above the dining room, and she could hear everything.

"Mycroft, it's just a C+."

"Anthea, no, it's so much more than that! That's his future. He wants to become a _teacher." _Elise heard a rattling that was probably him slamming the table. "A teacher! I've tried everything, I've taken him to work, but he won't let go of that stupid dream of his!"

"A teacher isn't a horrid place to be in."

"For the son of a Government official, yes! He's going to inherit everything and he's going to be a teacher!" Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh.

"BUT WHY ARE YOU PUNISHING ELISE?!" That was Anthea, screaming. "She wants to be a Pathologist, she's being the good child and you send HER to her room? She wants to impress you, Mycroft, and you're ignoring her!"

"I'm… I'm not ignoring her!" Mycroft spurted.

"She had a play. Last weekend. She was the stage manager, and the show went by without a hitch. Where were you?"

"Berlin."

"Right. Her father wasn't there, and all I could offer her were your insincere apologies and a ride home." Anthea was seething.

Mycroft was silent.

Elise sat on her bed, facing the wall. She did want her dad to be at the play, but it didn't really matter, she only carried props and scenery on…

Who was she kidding? She searched the audience for him.

_I don't need to hide anymore. _She told herself.

Suddenly she heard her name being called. Putting on the mask of ignorance, she sat down at the table and tried to continue eating. The shrimp melted in her mouth, and she focused on it instead of the angry daggers Anthea was shooting Mycroft.

_Author's Note_

_"__I would like to see though memories of the love Mycroft has for her." –VoiletErin.26_

_Ahaha nope! But thanks for the idea; it got me out of the deep pit I call a too complicated plot._

_Review!_

_-ATLK_


	14. Escape and Happy Endings

_Author's Note Sorry AngryHobbit, but flashbacks are essential to the plot. You didn't upset me though, any time the little number pops up I'm happy. _

Josef laughed as Emily screamed. He was ripping out chunks of her hair, piece by piece.

"Just kill me!" Emily screamed, tears mingling with the blood on her cheeks.

"Oh no…" Josef grinned. "Only later."

Mycroft was trying to figure out where he was. He had noticed the mud on Brown and Black's boots, it was fairly fresh. So he was somewhere rainy, and the air was humid. The men hadn't taken his watch… it had been four hours. He was in Worthing.

So now he knew where he was, but he still needed to find a way to escape.

His thoughts were interrupted by Josef returning with Emily. She was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, and the door was slammed shut once again.

Emily shrugged into a corner, and Mycroft wished he had his trusty weighted umbrella with him. He would have bludgeoned the men to death right then and there.

Hours passed in the darkness. Suddenly Black appeared, setting down a plate and leaving without a word. He had left a single piece of bread. Mycroft gently persuaded Emily to eat. But what really intrigued him was the plate. It was made of porcelain.

Elise approached Sherlock cautiously. "Uncle Sherlock," she began. "What if the bomber was Moriarty?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I've already thought of that. Moriarty would have teased us, led us on. Besides," his voice darkened. "Mycroft fed Moriarty information."

Elise flushed angrily. "Shut up." Sherlock smirked like a devious child. "Didn't your precious father ever tell you?"

Elise bared her teeth. "My father is an honest man."

"Nope."

"What on earth is going on in here?" That was John, walking through the door, seeing a smirking Sherlock and an angry Elise. He dropped the groceries, facepalming. "Elise, go to your room." When she didn't move, he repeated the order. "Go to your room, Elise!"

Elise stalked off, but she was able to listen to the conversation below. "What did you do?" John demanded.

"I told her that Mycroft fed information to Moriarty."

"Sherlock, that's her father, for Pete's sake! You can't insult a man who's probably dead!"

"I can." Sherlock replied curtly.

Mycroft held a piece of the broken glass carefully to avoid cutting himself.

Josef opened the door, ready to deal more damage to Emily. As he moved towards her, Mycroft lunged, cutting the man across the throat. He fell to the ground, gurgling. Emily stared in horror, as Mycroft pulled at the chains. "Help me, Emily!" he whispered, and she began to help him pull. The chain came out of the wall, and Mycroft grabbed her hand.

They ran through the door Josef had forgotten to shut, and out into a hallway. "This is Castle Goring," Mycroft whispered. "It's been abandoned since 1825." Emily and Mycroft raced towards the exit, the chain weighing down his arms. But the exit was not as close as it seemed. B

rown and Black stood at the door, arms crossed and holding guns. Mycroft began to back up, then whipped his chain and hit Black in the side of the head. He fell to the ground, grunting. Brown looked at his partner, and dropped the gun.

He held is hands up, blubbering in Danish. "Jeg har aldrig ønsket dette!"

Mycroft nodded. "Jeg vil ikke såre dig, lad os nu passere."

Emily furrowed her brow. "What's he saying?"

"He was forced into this by Josef. He never wanted this. I told him I wouldn't hurt him if he lets us pass." Mycroft clarified as he took the gun from Brown, shooting at the chain. It broke off, and Mycroft ran towards the exit. Emily's legs began to falter, and Mycroft began to carry her.

He made it to the road, where a car pulled over as they saw the bloody child. "Can you take us to a hospital?" Mycroft asked the driver of the car, an old woman who nodded frantically.

John was pacing worriedly in the flat when the phone rang. He answered it, then almost dropped the phone in shock. "ELISE!" he called.

When Elise showed, John handed her the phone. "Dad?" she gasped, bringing the phone to her ear. When Elise arrived at the hospital, she ran to Mycroft, who was currently hooked to an IV that was rehydrating him. She hugged him tightly, speaking into his hospital outfit.

"Whoa, Elise," John said. "You'll fracture his ribs."

Elise stopped, but she continued to hold onto her father's hand, as though she was afraid she'd lose him again. "Are you safe now?" she asked.

"Yes, Elise." Mycroft replied. "We can go back home."

_Author's Note: This is the end! Thank you for all your lovely reviews, and I hope you enjoyed! -ATLK_


End file.
